


In Limbo

by trillingstar



Series: Moment!Verse [2]
Category: Firefly, Oz (TV)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Community: hardtime100, Crossover, Explicit Language, Flash Fic, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-02
Updated: 2011-10-02
Packaged: 2017-10-24 06:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/260195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillingstar/pseuds/trillingstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan's having trouble finding his purpose on Serenity.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	In Limbo

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [You Always Wanted to Travel](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/121485) by cmk418. 



> Written into the [Moment 'verse](http://trillingstar.livejournal.com/244054.html), which is an Oz/Firefly crossover 'verse started by [](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cmk418/profile)[](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cmk418)**cmk418** that _anyone can write in_. (Hint, hint.) Also, written for #52: Gangs @ [hardtime100](http://hardtime100.livejournal.com).  
> 

Dr. Tam wants every bodily fluid that Ryan can give, gesturing to a line of neatly labeled vials on the infirmary counter top. After donating what feels like a gallon of blood – though Tam reassures him that it was less than an eighth of that – Ryan feels woozy and kind of numb, the way he'd felt every time he sat in the chemo chair. If they've got fucking flying saucers, then you'd think they'd have moved past needles, but when Ryan mentions Star Trek, the doc gives him a blank expression.

"You know. Star Trek. TV show... spaceships and exploring new galaxies and shit," Ryan explains.

Tam shakes his head. "Teeveeshu? I'm unfamiliar with that type of holographic program, although, we've never traveled so far into this sector."

"C'mon, you know. Captain Kirk. Spock. Crazy eyebrows," Ryan says.

"Perhaps it is unique to your planet," Tam suggests. "Many terraformed planets created their own cultural structures separate from those of the Alliance."

"Terra-whatted?" Ryan says. "Yanno, never mind. So I can go now?"

He thought it would be awesome to wander around by himself, but Ryan still finds himself asking if he can go, and sometimes he'll trail people in and out of rooms.

Tam shakes his head again. "First you have to eat this," and he gives Ryan a chunk of a nutrient bar, his eyes softening at Ryan's expression of disgust.

"Sure, yeah, I'll take it with me," Ryan says. "Eat it on the way." He starts to get up off of the exam table.

Okay, either Tam's hiding some serious muscles or Ryan's a lot further gone than he thought, because Ryan blinks and he's flat on his back on the table, with the doc's depressing a needle into Ryan's arm.

"What – what is that –" Ryan blurts out, and he hates that he sounds panicked.

"Just a dose of ivoprovalin," Tam says. "It's a common immunobooster, and you're a little run down."

Ryan tries to ease out his breaths, tries to relax back against the cushioned table. It helps that Tam's got steady hands; it helps that Ryan already knows all of his tells; it helps that he doesn't look a damn thing like Gloria or that asshole Prestopnick. Actually, he reminds Ryan of Beecher, a little, during that first year they were in together. Sometimes defiant, sometimes nervous, and all too willing to sacrifice himself for something stupid, like the greater cause.

One thing hasn't changed. There's no greater cause than Ryan O'Reily.

The trouble with that, out here, is that they're _out here_. In space. Ryan's reliant on every one of Serenity's crew. It makes him damn uncomfortable.

In some ways it's exactly what he's used to: communal meals, metal walls, tiny bunk, being enclosed. Only so many places he can go. As soon as the crew caught on to the fact he could cook pretty well with what he's got, and in big batches, it's been like he never left Oz's kitchen.

But... he can't fight with any of 'em. He sure as hell can't turn them against each other; he doesn't know how to fly a Firefly any more than he knows how to speak Chinese. Chinese! Fucking slanty-eyed Chink bastards took over the world, huh? At least Ryan got to Jia Kenmin before he could fucking reproduce.

He can't even fuck any of the women, and they're gorgeous, and he hasn't had pussy in years.

Still. He's not in Oz.

Reynolds strolls in then, as Ryan's choking down the last of the gross protein bar thing, and okay, Ryan's not blind. Out of the guys on board, Jayne would snap Ryan like a twig (or possibly kill him for asking), Ryan would snap Tam like a twig (it would be hot as hell if Kaylee joined in, but he's not even laying odds on it), and then there's the Captain.

Leather and suspenders and tight pants and Ryan's always wanted to be the alpha, always, but if it means having this man at his side during the day and in his bed at night, well. Reynolds already has a Lieutenant, but there could be a deal in there that lets Ryan come out on top, so to speak.

"You want some?" Reynolds asks, and Ryan snaps his attention up from studying the buckle on Reynolds' wide leather gun belt.

"What?" Ryan chokes out, sure that he misheard.

"Drink," Reynolds says, holding up a cup. "Sorry it's not something stronger, but Doc says you need to rehydrate."

"Yeah, thanks," Ryan says, but when he reaches out to take it, Reynolds doesn't let go.

"You're lookin' a mite shaky," he says, and Ryan wants to snap at him, wants to say he's fucking fine, but he finds himself nodding, letting Reynolds hold onto the cup and then Ryan's wrapping his hands over Reynolds' hands. The reconstituted juice tastes like aluminum and berries, not unlike the bottled crap they served up in the cafeteria.

It's not Oz, but he's not free, either; no way's he meant to earn his keep in chef whites for the rest of his life, but this is Ryan's specialty, you know? He works with what he's got until it looks like something he wants. He'll hold back from the touchy-feely bullshit that's going on with this crew. He'll hang out more around Zoe, use her grief to ground him. He'll steer clear of the weird-ass pilot, because he likes to keep his thoughts inside his head, thanks. He's a scrapper, relying on his fists over guns, but Jayne might trade for some tips or a lesson or something, and... Reynolds. Mal. Here goes.

"Thanks, Mal," he says, keeping his voice quiet, tipping the cup and taking a drink. Ryan glances up, catching a glimpse of startled pleasure on Reynolds' face. Deliberately, Ryan lets a dribble of juice slosh over the rim, and he licks at the mouth of the cup and Mal's finger together.

"Are you scheduled for a shot too, Captain?" Tam's voice, then, and Ryan looks up.

A light blush on his cheeks, Mal shakes his head. "Nope, just checking in. I'd best be getting back." His hands slide away from the cup, and Ryan takes a sip, pretending utter innocence.

If Ryan can't fuck and he can't fight, then he'll just have to make his own fun. He's going to plan, and he's going to seduce, and he's looking forward to squeezing onto a tiny bunk with the Captain and rattling the metal walls.  



End file.
